Chicken Soup For The Slayer
by craZchica
Summary: COMPLETE - Buffy’s sick, and someone makes her soup. Uber fluffy. Early Season 6. BS


Chicken Soup for the Slayer  
Summary: Buffy's sick, and the last person she expects takes care of her. Early Season 6. B/S *COMPLETE*  
Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own em.  
  
A/N - yup, it's uber-fluff. but i don't care :) review please?  
  
**** Chicken Soup for the Slayer ****  
  
Buffy groaned and reached for a tissue. Sniffling into the soft paper, she closed her eyes and waited for the buffalo to stop wandering around in her head.  
  
She _never_ got sick. She'd had broken bones, cuts and bruises, and every other problem that came from fighting evil every night, but she _never_ got sick. *There was the one time with the flu, when you killed that Freddie Kreuger looking thing...* one of the buffalo mumbled to her.  
  
Okay, fine. She _rarely_ got sick.  
  
She'd been back from the grave for about a month. The others didn't know where she had been, and she certainly didn't want to tell them.  
  
Maybe _that's_ why I'm sick. Being brought back... here. She grumbled to herself, forcing her body to sit up in bed. Don't I feel bad enough already? Now I have to deal with this?  
  
She squinted as she looked out the window. The shades were pulled back, letting in the morning sunlight. She closed her eyes again and slowly stood to pull the shades closed.  
  
She stepped into the hall, intent on getting a few Tylenol and some water.  
  
  
  
Dawn's head was peeking out of the bathroom, looking at Buffy curiously. Are you okay?  
  
I'm fine. Okay, so her skin felt like it was on fire, she was sweating, and her muscles ached, and she had a sneaking suspicion that she might throw everything up... but otherwise, she was fine.  
  
You don't look fine. And you really don't sound fine. You sound all stuffy. Concern took it's place on the teen's features. You look sick. She headed towards her sister.  
  
Dawnie, I'm fine. Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?  
  
I am ready. Just waiting for Xander. Dawn put a hand to Buffy's forehead. Oooh, I think you have a fever. Come on.  
  
Buffy started to protest as the brunette lead her back to her bedroom.  
  
Uh uh, Buffy. You are going to stay in bed, and go to sleep, and I'm gonna bring you orange juice...  
  
She was cut off by Willow, who had just stepped into the hall. Everything okay?  
  
Buffy's sick. Dawn grinned.  
  
I am not. I'll be okay. The Slayer insisted.  
  
Willow touched Buffy's head, repeating Dawn's earlier action. Sorry, Buffy, but I'm with Dawn. You get in bed, and I'll find a thermometer. She hurried off to the bathroom.  
  
A wave of dizziness washed over Buffy, and she faltered, momentarily swaying. This time, she let Dawn lead her.  
  
Dawn gently lead the blonde to her bed, and tucked her in.  
  
There. I'll be right back, okay? The teen scurried out of the room, and Buffy didn't have the strength to say anything else.  
  
Willow appeared first and sat on the bed. Here you go. Put this in your mouth... She placed the thermometer under Buffy's tongue. There. Okay, Dawn has school, so she can't stay with you, and Tara has already left, and I have to leave in a while... and Xander has work... are you going to be okay here alone until one of us gets back?  
  
Buffy nodded as the thermometer beeped.  
  
Hey, it's only 100.2. Willow smiled.  
  
Is that good? Buffy asked weakly.  
  
The redhead nodded. Well, it's still a fever, and you need lots of rest and fluids, but it's a low fever. You probably just caught that cold that's going around. She stood. Do you want me to get you anything before I go? Toast?  
  
Thanks, but no. Some tylenol though?  
  
Willow giggled. Okay. Hang on.  
  
Dawn met Willow outside. Orange juice. The teen stated, holding up the glass. Mom always used to make us drink it when we were sick. Is she okay?  
  
The witch nodded. Probably a cold. I'll see if Giles can come check on her later. Everyone else has classes or work.  
  
Dawn shook her head. Won't work. Giles had that thing in LA, remember?  
  
Willow groaned. I completely forgot. We can't just leave her. I mean, she's sick!  
  
Dawn looked thoughtful. There's always Spike... She suggested.  
  
Willow crinkled her nose and sighed. I guess. I'll stop by his crypt on my way to class.  
  
A horn honked outside. Oops, there's Xander. You go, and I'll give this to her. Willow took the juice from Dawn, who bounded down the stairs and out the front door.  
  
The redhead grabbed some medicine from the bathroom and returned to Buffy's room.  
  
Here ya go. She said, setting the juice on her night stand. Buffy cracked open her eyes pulled herself to a sitting position, and accepted the pain relievers that Willow dropped into her hand. Within seconds, they were gone.  
  
Willow asked.  
  
Yeah, thanks. The Slayer nodded, laying back down, and closing her eyes once more.  
  
Okay, I've got to go. You get some sleep. I'm... I'm gonna ask Spike to come check on you later. Do you mind?  
  
Buffy mumbled something unintelligible, which Willow took for a plus, since she didn't threaten to stake him. Okay. I'll see you later.  
  
She crept out of the room, closing the door behind her, and set off for Spike's crypt.  
  
****  
  
The kitchen door flew open, and a smoking object flung itself inside.  
  
Spike slammed the door shut and threw off the blanket, patting himself down and making sure he wasn't on fire. Satisfied that he wasn't going to meet a flaming death, he nodded.  
  
Bloody witch. He mumbled. Assumes I have nothing better to do than look after a sick Slayer...  
  
He busied himself around the kitchen, still grumbling. He didn't mind, of course. After all, he loved Buffy. So any time he got to spend with her was worth it, even if she did have a cold.  
  
He only wished she'd had the sense to get sick at night.  
  
He finished what he was doing and searched for a tray. Finding a wooden one, he set everything on it and stepped back to survey his work.  
  
Needs something else... He pondered for a second. Needs a little flower in a vase. The Vampire looked around the kitchen for a minute, but didn't see anything.  
  
Oh bloody...  
  
He threw the blanket on and rushed outside, returning in record time.  
  
I've turned into a soddin' pouf. He mumbled, putting the tiny pink flower into a small glass vase.  
  
Lifting the tray, he headed up to Buffy's room.  
  
****  
  
Her thoughts slowly became coherent, as she realized she wasn't alone in the room. She had been in a deep sleep until...  
  
  
  
Bugger, woman! The Vampire jumped, startled, and nearly dropping the tray he was holding.  
  
Buffy sat up. What are you doing here?  
  
Well, Red came by and told me you were sick. Wanted to know if I would check on you.  
  
Buffy tried to think, but her mind was still fuzzy from sleep and the cold. So... you're here.  
  
Spike shifted nervously. I am. Made you something to eat...  
  
She noticed the tray for the first time, and sat up more, grinning softly. I guess I could eat something.  
  
Spike smiled back, and walked the short distance to her bed, placing the tray on her lap.  
  
There you are, pet. Soup, toast, and juice. All the things for a sick Slayer such as yourself. He pulled her desk chair next to her bed and sat.  
  
Her face softened. You made me soup.  
  
Spike nodded.  
  
  
  
He looked at her as if she had grown an extra head. Cause you're sick, luv. He reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Can't have the Slayer getting a cold, now, can we? He smiled.  
  
She looked down at the bowl. But... soup. She started to giggle.  
  
What's so funny?  
  
You... vampire... you made me soup! And put a little flower in a vase!  
  
He grinned. Of course.  
  
She leaned back. Thank you. She whispered.  
  
Spike tilted his head. For what, luv?  
  
she gestured to the food. Listening to me all the time. Everything. Thanks. She took his hand and looked him in the eyes, strangely not surprised by the caring she found there.  
  
Spike was startled by the tender gesture. Anytime, Buffy. Anytime. He smiled.  
  
They sat in silence for a moment, until Buffy's stomach rumbled. She giggled again, and started sipping at the chicken soup.  
  
Spike stood. Well, luv, if you're feeling better, I'd better go.  
  
He had started towards the door when Buffy stopped him.   
  
He turned. Yeah, pet?  
  
Stay with me for a while?  
  
He grinned and headed back towards the chair.   
  
**** The End ****  
  
A/N - yup, that's it. review, and go check out my other stories, and my fanfic archive http://buffyfix.cjb.net , and email me if you have a story you want me to put up! :D


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